Each rank difference in class levels is worlds apart. The most obvious aspect is mana capacity.

Moreover, as ranks increase, skills for each class unlock one by one.

Higher class ranks grant access to more advanced class skills.

Take the Holy Maiden’s exclusive Holy Judgment Flame, for instance—eternal and burning all things. It’s hailed by later generations as one of the most formidable attacks...

Lenna knew this all too well.

In her past life, she’d been chased and burned repeatedly by the Holy Judgment Maiden, Angela Cavendish. Fortunately, her soul had already become a pawn of spirits and gods, so she only suffered flesh wounds. Otherwise, the Holy Judgment Flame’s terrifying power could easily burn her soul to ashes and reduce her body to dust.

That’s why Lenna schemed relentlessly to make Angela her own.

Such overwhelming combat power must never fall into the Hero’s hands—not even into the hands of the Hero’s future mentor, the Fate Navigator Agnes...

"I’ve never seen a living, breathing Sixth Rank before," Agnes thought, gazing at the tall, grey-haired girl in a grey uniform before her.

Fighting her was out of the question.

In this world, cross-rank challenges were nearly impossible.

Only attribute counters and sheer rank superiority existed.

Even if hundreds of Fourth and Fifth Rank professionals ganged up on a single Sixth Rank Necromancer, they’d be swallowed by a sea of undead skeletons—gloriously becoming one of "them."

This proved the class rank system’s strictness.

"What? Are Sixth Rank classes rare?" Lenna unconsciously asked a basic question, drawing Agnes’s frequent sidelong glances.

"Read more. Check the Imperial Evening News. The Imperial Military Agency recruits above Fourth Rank. With your strength, Lenna, you could easily become a thousand-man commander—or even a general..."

Agnes’s analysis was spot on.

Special classes like Necromancers, who could shift battle tides, were already scarce. Sixth Rank ones were rarer still.

As expected, the Falmore Family would soon face turmoil.

Factions would visit to win over or arrange marriages—possibly hiding enemy spies intent on assassinating this genius beauty.

A Sixth Rank Necromancer was an irresistible temptation for any kingdom.

If they couldn’t have her, they’d destroy her. Political assassinations were inevitable...

"Sorry, I have no interest in office. I don’t know what the higher-ups think—but if they dare come, I dare kill."

She pulled a chair from the row and sat backward. Her plump, curvy legs in black stockings pressed against the chair leg, leaving a tempting mark.

"My father joined the army young and returned a general. Later, he kept a low profile, retiring behind the scenes, avoiding imperial politics. That’s how my brother came to be—then me..."

"I’ve never wanted to climb ranks, nor will I," Lenna said, raising her fair left arm to tap lightly on the ancient tung wood desk. A crisp *tap-tap* echoed. "Power is intoxicating. I’m glad my father didn’t sink deep. He’s cunning and sly—I inherited his mantle perfectly, leaving all the ‘good’ filtered qualities to my brother."

Hmm, that’s how it should have been...

An unexpected reincarnation, like a summer downpour, caught her off guard. Lenna was no longer the villainous young lady she once was...

"So... General Adelaide is your father?!" Agnes exclaimed.

"Yeah." Lenna replied nonchalantly.

"That old man stays low-key. He hasn’t appeared publicly in ages. Right now... he’s probably in some obscure border town teahouse, boasting to country bumpkins about his glory days dominating battlefields..."

A mocking expression crossed Lenna’s face as she spoke.

It was hard to imagine father and daughter with no respect—like discussing a joke worth mentioning.

"Ah! I should’ve realized... Falmouth! The general’s surname is Falmouth!"

As the black box of memories opened, Agnes awakened her long-dormant childhood dreams.

Vaguely remembered—

Elders often spoke of General Adelaide wielding a star-iron great axe, galloping alone across battlefields, routing the Second Empire and defending the First Empire’s throne.

After retiring, "the Silent One" Adelaide dominated newspaper front pages for over half a year. To this day, supporters hide in streets and villages, hoping to glimpse the national hero.

But Adelaide had long submitted his resignation to the Imperial Military Agency. Now, he was just an ordinary citizen...

"This is... I never imagined the great general’s child would be my student!!"

Agnes couldn’t contain her excitement, unsure how to face Lenna.

Panic, shock, joy, regret...

Almost everyone has a childhood idol.

Unlike other girls, Agnes grew up hearing about Lenna’s father, the Silent One Adelaide.

Now, she grabbed Lenna’s hand excitedly, asking for the Silent One’s autograph.

"Professor Sister, rein it in," Lenna said, unable to pull free, a headache brewing. "The old man quit long ago. I can’t find him. Begging me’s useless..."

"How could you not find him?!" Agnes refused to believe her. "I heard he’s still stationed in the Imperial City!"

"Don’t believe me, fine."

*Smack!* Lenna slapped Agnes’s ample bosom with her left hand, squeezing twice. "Big tits, tiny brain."

"Think. Would the imperial military let my father leave freely? I’d squeeze every last drop of usefulness from him, then use the Silent One’s image to uphold their authority."

"Commoners trust the Silent One Adelaide—they pay bizarre taxes willingly. The military doesn’t need him; they need the *idea* of his loyalty. Propaganda hid his departure. Most don’t know he’s a free man now."

Lenna’s analysis was flawless. Agnes gaped, her pretty face stunned.

Being lectured by a student stung Agnes’s pride—but Lenna was the general’s daughter. Her words held weight.

"I never considered this. I foolishly thought the general was still active..."

"Nonsense! Of course he’s alive! What, do you think he’s dead?!"

Lenna nearly fainted at Agnes’s "auspicious words."

Lingling leaned in, small hands pressing Lenna’s shoulder blades to soothe her.

Lenna huffed, enjoying the Fox Maiden’s attentive massage. "That old fool actually believed that bitch’s lies. Hmph—I should’ve axed her then. No trouble later."

Lingling glanced around, then nodded vigorously. "Young Miss curses well! Mhm! Lingling agrees!"

Agnes: "......"

Angela: "......"

Do you even know who she’s cursing?